A Highlander's Second Chance: Highland Temptations Read online

  She softened. Her gray eyes appeared sympathetic when she replied. “Yes, I understand. McTavish made mention of it when he visited. Mind you, he told me nothing more than I needed to know, and I did not ask him to reveal anything.”

  He snorted, shaking his head. “I would expect nothing less from him. So he told ye of Janet. Did he speak to ye of the bairns?”

  Her eyes widened, giving him an answer.

  His smile was grim, utterly empty. “Our son and daughter, as well. All three of them.”

  She gasped, stricken. Perhaps the first true, real reaction she’d granted since their meeting the night before. “I am sorry.” Her chin quivered, her voice trembling.

  Why did he tell her? Perhaps so that she might look back after he’d done what he intended and understand why he felt compelled to do it.

  Mary was all he had, and he was all she had. It was entirely up to him to secure her well-being, as there was little chance of her being cared for in this place.

  Respecting what Ailsa did here and wishing for his kin to be part of it were two different matters.

  A great abundance of food was placed before him minutes later, and he spared Mary a grateful look before tucking in. He’d hardly been hungry before then, but the scent and sight of food roused his appetite.

  “How is Mary faring here?” he asked while spearing a piece of boiled potato.

  To his surprise, her stern expression gave way to fondness. “Splendidly. She has a great deal of potential. She speaks well, is proficient in reading and writing, and has already mastered a fine English accent.”

  “Her sister knew how to read, as well. It was important to their father that they know something of the world if they were expected to live in it.”

  She further surprised him by chuckling in recognition. “My father was of the same belief. Mary has been very helpful to me. She instructs the others whenever she can, for I cannot possibly instruct all at once when they are all possessed of different levels of understanding. Truly, she has been a gift.”

  He took this in silently. What a pity she would soon be losing her gift, he thought, before slicing off a piece of roasted boar with great pleasure.

  Surely, she would learn to do without Mary’s presence.

  How would he achieve it, though? That was the question. The woman’s eyes were watchful, all-seeing. At least, this was the impression she granted. It would take a great deal of skill to manage avoiding her.

  He would more than likely have to wait until nightfall, or later. When most of the convent was asleep. All he needed to do was learn which room belonged to Mary.

  Would she put up a fight? A good question. One he needed to consider before attempting to remove her from the place. He’d seen the way she smiled at Ailsa and took it for the hero worship it appeared to be. He supposed that to a young, unknowing girl, she was indeed something to be admired and respected.

  It would not be simple, then, convincing her to go with him. Yes, he would need to spirit her away quite carefully. He could not allow her to move about under her own power. She could not be trusted.

  After they finished eating, Ailsa continued the tour of the convent. “You have not asked many questions,” she observed after showing him the rooms she used for instruction. One of them, the most impressive of all, was richly decorated as if to give the impression of a palace or other such lavish residence. “For our young ladies to practice how to conduct themselves in society,” she’d explained upon entering, before adding, “and how to attract the attention of the person they’ve been tasked with spying upon.”

  Or killing. She neglected to mention that.

  Pausing in the center of the grand room, he turned to her. “I do not speak much.”

  “Why not?” She observed him from a distance, hands clasped before her. In her worn garment, wisps of hair falling from her braid, the sight of her in such a lavish room was nearly amusing.

  “It is not my way.” He shrugged.

  “I suppose a man of your stature does not need to speak very much.” She chuckled.

  He asked himself if she were truly trying to gain his friendship. Perhaps she felt it necessary to jest this way if they were to work together.

  It mattered not, either way. Yet he found it interesting, watching her at least try to create warmth where there had been nothing but coldness from her at first.

  He suspected she would hate herself for not having seen through him from the start.

  He found himself quite glad to know he’d not be the one to face her wrath when she discovered what had been his true purpose all along.

  6

  Night fell quickly, though not quickly enough in his estimation. He wished for nothing more than to be with finished this, to wash his hands of the entire matter and return to the life he’d built for himself over the last number of months.

  To say nothing of the strange sense of guilt which plagued him now and again when he considered how the situation would appear through Ailsa’s eyes.

  She did not matter. Mary was what mattered, and he kept this in mind as he made his way down silent corridors in utter darkness. Ailsa insisted the young women beneath the convent roof adhere to strict rules in all matters, waking, eating, training, sleeping. There was no chatter, no girlish giggles. They were to conduct themselves as soldiers in training.

  For a man of his stature, he was still able to move around without attracting notice. Years of stealing about in the dead of night as a youth, all that he might avoid the notice of a father who was always angry and a mother who was always sad.

  He reached the door he’d noted Mary disappearing behind earlier in the evening, once the day’s instruction ended and the evening meal had been served and cleared. There was no lock on the door. Ailsa had explained that the nuns who’d lived there did not believe in owning personal items, and therefore they had nothing to protect.

  This worked in his favor as he opened the door, lifting it slightly on its hinges so that they would not squeak.

  It came as no surprise that the golden-haired girl on the plain straw tick beneath the window sat straight up, her mouth already open as if preparing to scream.

  He was at her side in an instant, his hand over her mouth. How he hated handling her this way, but there was no choice. She had already caused him to lose faith in her when she’d tried to scream.

  “Do not struggle,” he warned in a whisper, staring straight into her wide blue eyes. Eyes he so fervently wished didn’t look exactly like her sister’s.

  Though, if anything, they served as a reminder of why he had come and why it was so important to free Mary from this place. The more he had learned of it, the more certain he’d become that this was not a suitable life for her.

  “I would never harm ye,” he reminded the trembling lass. “Ye know I would not. I have come here to help ye, but ye must allow me to do so. Believe me. Ye will see the good in this.”

  From a pocket sewn into his tunic, he withdrew a rag, which he bundled together in his fist. Working quickly, he removed his hand from her mouth and shoved the rag inside before she had a chance to cry out.

  There was no struggling against him once he bound her wrists, then threw her over his shoulder. She insisted upon pounding her fists against his back and kicking out with her legs, though it was no use.

  She was healthy, young, and had already trained to discipline her body and better serve her work. But she was nowhere near as large as he, and nowhere near as strong.

  He hurried toward the courtyard through which he had entered the convent the night before, already having prepared his horse before setting out for Mary’s bedchamber. Leaving the steed there had been a risk, but he’d reasoned there was a great deal of ground to be patrolled, and only one young woman at a time was set to patrol it. She could not be everywhere at once.

  He did hope Ailsa improved the measures she took to keep the convent unbreachable. For now, this worked in his favor, and he once again opened the weak lock with
out much trouble while Mary grunted out her distress.

  She would one day come to see how right he was to do this.

  Under the cover of darkness, with no moon to reveal them, Clyde led the steed on foot with Mary draped over the saddle. He nearly felt sorry for her, but then reminded himself that he ought to feel far worse for anyone who had been coerced into such a dangerous and, he feared, useless endeavor.

  For what could a group of young women, no matter how well instructed they happened to be, hope to do? It was the worst kind of mistake, and now that he knew the girls were handpicked by strangers who believed them suited for the task—he imagined this meant girls with no family, no husband, no prospects—he felt considerably less guilty for taking her away from something she cared about.

  She simply did not know any better. Perhaps that was his fault. He had not been the brother he should have been. He could only hope to make it up to her now that she was free.

  After a time, she grew tired of fighting and allowed herself to hang limp, bouncing slightly with each step the horse took. He’d known this would happen once she understood there was no escape.

  Even so, the stars had shifted quite a distance overhead before he dared bring the horse to stop the middle of deep, dark wood. He estimated it had been at least three or four hours since they’d set out, and there had been no one to follow them.

  It was colder here, damp and dank. But they were secluded and safe enough. It was a relief to come to a stop, and he suspected both the horse and its unwilling rider were also glad to halt for a time.

  He helped her from the saddle and set her to rest on a mossy log, but left her hands as they were and her gag in place along with the linen strip which held it tight, tied behind her head.

  “Ye will come to see this was for the best,” he explained in a low voice as he searched for dry wood to build a fire. His words likely offered little comfort in the situation, but he would try just the same to make her understand. “I could not allow ye to risk your life in such a fashion. What would Janet think if she knew I had ever allowed such a thing? She would never forgive me. I could hardly forgive myself if I allowed ye to come to harm when I might have been able to spare ye.”

  When he paused in his work, finally looking at her after avoiding her gaze, he found her no longer pointedly ignoring him but instead looking at him, perhaps even staring. What did she hold behind her eyes? What was she thinking about what he had done?

  He suspected he would find out soon enough, once he’d removed her gag.

  With this in mind, then, he made haste to explain himself. Words did not come easily to him, but it was different with her. Perhaps her resemblance to Janet made it easier.

  “I am certain that for a young woman such as yourself, what they are doing at the convent seems very exciting and thrilling, and ye feel as though this sort of work will give ye great purpose and meaning. But ye cannot ask me to sit back, knowing how dangerous this work is and how your sister will have my head for ever allowing ye to go through with it. I admit, I might have paid better attention to ye, but that will change now. Ye can make your home where the house still stands. The one I shared with Janet. She will be so glad to know you were provided for. It is the least I can do.”

  He suspected she had a great deal to say, still, and there was little more he could do to defend his actions. So, dreading every moment of what was to come, he sat beside her.

  “Dinna think this gives ye permission to attempt to escape,” he warned, holding a finger on her face. “If I am to remove this, I need your vow. Ye will not attempt to flee. I must know I can trust ye before I go forward. Can I?”

  She rolled her eyes, which did not come as a surprise under the circumstances, but then nodded eagerly. He supposed she had a great deal she wished to say.

  And who was he to keep her from having that say? Even so, he took his time about it, withdrawing the rag from her mouth as slowly as he could and watching her reaction all the while. To her credit, she managed to handle herself well.

  Until she was free to speak, and once she did her voice was just as sharp as her glare. “Do ye realize what ye did?”

  “I took ye from a very dangerous situation which ye could not possibly understand. I know ye have grown, but you are still my responsibility—”

  She shook her head. “Nay, that is not what I meant. Do ye know ye speak of my sister as though she were still alive?”

  His mouth fell open. He had every intention of telling her she was wrong.

  Yet he could not, because she was not. He thought back over what he’d said, and realized that he had indeed spoken of Janet as though she were still alive and aware of what took place.

  “No one knows as well as I do that she is no longer here,” he muttered. For the moment, he forgot about Mary, and instead, stared off into the darkness, unwilling to look upon her painfully familiar face.

  “Then why do ye speak so?” The question was a gentle one, which he suspected was full of pity. He did so loathe being pitied.

  He shrugged, not looking at her. It was too difficult to look at her, for every gesture and every expression only brought Janet back to him. It was the cruelest sort of thing, as if he needed to be reminded that she would never come back to him. Not truly.

  “I suppose it is habit. There are times when I speak to her. I dinna expect her to answer me, ye ken, so ye need not fear for my mind. It does bring me comfort, however, and I dinna believe I have to explain that to anyone. Not even to ye.”

  “Ye do not.” She sighed, clasping her bound hands together. “I see her often. Janet, ye ken. I speak with her in my mind. It comforts me. I ask what she thinks of what I have done. I feel as if she is with me at times, truly.”

  He snorted. “And what does she think of this? Of ye taking such chances?”

  “I believe she would know how important it was to me.”

  “That is very convenient. I happen to know she would rail against it, consider ye mad for even thinking about putting yourself in such a position. Why ever did ye?”

  “Ye do not know how things truly are.” She snorted, as if she were a grown woman speaking to a bairn who would not mind the rules.

  “Help me to know, then. I do wish to, truly I do. I’ve asked myself for days, ever since I found out ye were there, why ye would choose to align yourself with this group.”

  When light came into her eyes, his suspicions were confirmed, and his heart sank. Yes, she was truly enamored of the notion that she was going to be a hero. If anything, this was the greatest crime of all, giving helpless young women the notion that they need jeopardize themselves for some higher purpose.

  Indeed, if he had that Ailsa before him then, he would tell her precisely what he thought of her and her methods. She did little more than take advantage of young, inexperienced women. They all did, whoever had dreamed up this notion from the start. And if any of the young women died, blood would be on their hands and not upon hands of those who’d done the deed.

  “Tell me true.” She leaned in slightly, staring at him with an intensity that made him uncomfortable. “If ye were given the chance to make the English pay for their crimes, would ye not take it? Would ye not gladly sacrifice all ye had if it meant justice?”

  Now he understood, though understanding did not grant him comfort or peace. She was doing this for Janet, for the bairns.

  Her choice of words gave him pause. “What do ye mean, all ye have? Ye dinna intend to give your life, do ye?”

  She lifted her chin. “And why not? Did my sister and her children not give their lives? I have already given them everything I have. Why not give myself?”

  “Already? Do ye mean to tell me ye have given them all your possessions? Is that what ye are trying to say?”

  She shrugged. “Of course. They did not ask me to, so do not blame them. I simply wished to do everything in my power to bring success for all of us.”

  He stared at her for a moment, stricken, and then laughed, thro
wing back his head as he did. It was all too humorous and terrible. There was nothing to do but laugh. Otherwise, he might strangle someone.

  Wiping his eyes, he asked, “What ye are saying is, the money I have sent you all this time? Did they get some of that?”

  She finally seemed to understand what he meant, and she looked away before answering. The note of pride which had been so heavy in her voice was no more. “Aye. I did not eat much, did not need much. Ye have been so generous, I could not have survived—”

  “Nay. I dinna wish to hear this.” He stood, incensed to the point of not knowing what to do. She had willingly given money to this cause of hers, had advanced it without his awareness.

  In the end, the money he’d sent to Mary was hers to do with as she pleased, but he would never have imagined this. He could not help but wish that he would have thought twice of sending as much as he had, but he knew this was merely frustration coloring his thoughts. If anything, he would have sent more if possible.

  In fact, he’d always felt as though he was not providing well enough for her, that he could do better.

  And look where his desire to provide for her had gotten him. Look where it had gotten her.

  “If I had not taken such pains to rescue ye from the place, I would take ye back there right now and demand every coin be returned.”

  She gasped. “Ye canna mean it! When I have told you how important it is?”

  He gritted his teeth, breathing heavy, fighting to control his impulse to shake sense into her head. “I agree with ye. It is very important that the crown reclaim the lands lost to those English bastards.” It was rare that he spoke so freely before a woman, but this seemed as likely a situation as any for him to loosen his tongue.

  “Well, then?”

  “Well, then, I dinna see why young women ought to be robbed of their savings. That might have meant a future for ye, lass. Instead, it went to…her.”

  “Ailsa.”

  “Aye, I’m aware of the woman’s name,” he grumbled, cursing it silently. The nerve of her.

  “And it did not go to her directly. It isn’t as if she hoards our offerings.”